Monday, September 20, 2004

Airports and stopovers. Where nobody talks and everybody’s in permanent liminality . My favourite word that. Liminality. Anthropology’s waiting lounge. Victor Turner and liminality. That’s the funny thing about this field though. Words come attached to their proponents. Their puny claim to creation. No brands, buildings or bridges. Just words. It is but a scavenger’s profession after all. Pick, discard, clean, sell. And why do I do it? Because I can do nothing else. Cannot climb or run or tend. I can walk, watch and make patchwork quilts. I am also very good at being audience. I could probably make a profession of that too.